


Cool Kids

by justrae2010



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Crushes, Fluff, M/M, School Uniforms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-12 18:17:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12965517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justrae2010/pseuds/justrae2010
Summary: He winced at the sound the chair legs made against the floor. At the thump of his backpack as he dropped it on the desktop. At the whispers he caught from behind him.He tried to ignore them as he sat down, hugging his arms around his backpack and hugging it close to his chest. A trembling finger pushed his non regulation blue glasses further up his nose, trying his hardest to distract himself from the traitorous burn behind his eyes. He could not cry here. He absolutely could not-“Hi.”Yuuri jumped.Someone behind him snickered.Yuuri didn’t have time to turn - not before the chair beside him squeaked and a beaming smile dazzled him. A shock of silver hair made Yuuri blink. He knew who he was immediately.Victor Nikiforov._______When Yuuri Katsuki gets sent to detention for violating the school dress code on the first day of term, there's more than just thinking about theerror of  his waysto keep him occupied.





	Cool Kids

Yuuri’s eyes were wide and horrified as his legs numbly dragged him through the doorway to detention, shame weighing heavy on his shoulders. The detention slip barely clung to his fingertips, red stamp from his teacher bright and angry. Yuuri couldn’t believe it. His parents were going to kill him.

His glasses.

He couldn’t believe he’d been given detention all because of his glasses. How was he supposed to know it was against school rules to have glasses any other colour than black?

The supervising teacher sat behind the desk didn’t even look up as he took Yuuri’s slip away - Mr Cialdini, if Yuuri remembered correctly - bored, with his cheek resting against his propped up fist. His long brown hair tumbled over his shoulder, barely not a uniform violation in its own rights were it not so firmly tied back. A student wouldn’t get away with it, Yuuri dared think to himself.

It was the last thought he had before the shock of where he was sank in all over again. His breath caught.

How could he get detention on his first day of school? His parents had spent a fortune getting him into this fancy place and now they would receive a letter to say that Yuuri had managed to get a detention slip before he’d even finished his first class. He was going to be in so much trouble when he got home.

Maybe he just shouldn’t go home. Ever. He should just live here instead, in this abandoned classroom for bad boys and mischief makers. For the rule breakers and defiers of dress code. Yuuri was one of them now. He was here.

He took a step shaky step forward.

There weren’t many seats going spare. The whole back row was taken, and the two end seats on the next row forward from that were gone too. The next row forward was empty. The very front had just one student, but Yuuri wasn’t keen on joining him, on being the first thing the headmaster would see when he came to lecture them.

He took the second row instead.

He winced at the sound the chair legs made against the floor. At the thump of his backpack as he dropped it on the desktop. At the whispers he caught from behind him.

He tried to ignore them as he sat down, hugging his arms around his backpack and hugging it close to his chest. A trembling finger pushed his non regulation blue glasses further up his nose, trying his hardest to distract himself from the traitorous burn behind his eyes. He could not cry here. He absolutely could not-

“Hi.”

Yuuri jumped.

Someone behind him snickered.

Yuuri didn’t have time to turn - not before the chair beside him squeaked and a beaming smile dazzled him. A shock of silver hair made Yuuri blink. He knew who he was immediately.

Victor Nikiforov.

The boy who’d scored the highest in the entry exams. Headmaster Yakov Feltsman’s nephew from St Petersburg.

And he was in detention.

“Yo-you-”

“I’m Victor,” the boy smiled, his bright blue eyes sparkling. They were beautiful, mesmerising. “What’s your name?”

It took Yuuri a moment to remember. His mouth fell open but his brain froze, just blinking stupidly at the boy in front of him. He looked different to the picture of him Yuuri had seen on the bulletin board. His hair was shorter. In the photo, Victor had had long and flowing silver locks falling all the way down to his waist while he’d smiled at the camera and shaken the headmaster’s hand. Now, it was all gone. Now, it was short and cropped, stylishly cut with a slither of silver bangs falling over his left eye. It made him look older, more dignified.

“I…” Yuuri forgot Victor’s question. He just blinked, gaze following the sharp curve of Victor’s jaw, the high rise of his cheekbones.  _ No one should be allowed to be that beautiful _ , he thought. “I-I like it.”

Victor’s smile faltered.

His head cocked to the side. “I’m sorry?”

“Um,” Yuuri’s heart dropped into his stomach, cheeks on fire. “Y-your hair,” he quickly backpedalled. “It’s shorter. I-I like it.”

“Oh...”

Yuuri didn’t dare look up. He felt like the biggest idiot in the world. His first day; detention, and now humiliating himself in front of the most popular boy in school...

“Thank you! They told me to make it more suitable before we started school, but … I mean they didn’t exactly say  _ how _ . They just said  _ ‘suitable’ _ . How was I supposed to know they didn’t like the colour as well as how long it was?”

A hand pressed over Yuuri’s on his backpack, squeezing his fingers. It shocked Yuuri’s attention up just in time to catch Victor rake a hand through his silver locks. He brushed his bangs back from his face with that brilliant smile of his, bright blue eyes following the movement over his head.

It took Yuuri a second to digest what Victor had actually said. When he did, he couldn’t quite believe it.

“S-so you…”  _ No way.  _ “You’re in here because of your hair?”

Victor chuckled low under his breath, smile widening. His fingers laced through Yuuri’s, peeling them away from the backpack. Their interlocked hands rested on the desktop edge, Victor’s fingers cool and soft to the touch.

“‘ _ Extreme hairstyles are not appropriate for school. _ ’” Victor quoted seamlessly from the school’s uniform policy. He should know. It was his uncle’s school. “That’s what they got me for. Ironic really. They said I should dye my hair to a more natural colour when they sent me to detention, but dyed hair is actually banned as well. How does that work?”

Victor could be reciting binary code for all Yuuri knew - and it would have sounded amazing. He’d known that Victor was Russian, but it wasn’t until he just  _ talked _ that Yuuri could really hear it. That delectable accent. So gloriously crisp and alien, wrapping sharp around his syllables.

He wanted to hear more.

“So what are you here for?”

The pressure tightened around Yuuri’s hand, squeezing warmly.

It brought him back to reality.

“Oh, um.” His hand twitched under Victor’s. “My glasses. Apparently they’re classed as a non-regulatory accessory because the frames are the wrong colour.”

A tiny frown nudged into Victor’s brow, stuttering another chuckle. “But… but you need those to  _ see. _ They’re not an accessory. They’re a necessity.”

Yuuri blushed, smiling shyly. “Not unless they’re black apparently.”

He was very aware of Victor’s hand around his on the desk. It was a firm pressure, but not trapping. Yuuri could slide his fingers free at any moment if he wanted to… only he didn’t want to. He wanted to keep listening to Victor’s wonderful accent and keep watching the light dance in his eyes. Victor’s fingers were slimmer than Yuuri’s. His nails were perfectly manicured and his skin soft and pale, a complete contrast to Yuuri’s thick, podgy fingers.

He still didn’t understand why Victor was holding his hand - why Victor was even talking to him, even! But he wasn’t complaining.

“Oi, old man! Stop flirting with the scholarship kid.”

Yuuri gasped - he’d almost forgotten about the other kids in detention, hand snatching out of Victor’s grasp as fast as lightning. Victor pouted.

His gaze cant to the side when Yuuri continued to avoid it, back to the blonde boy sat behind them instead. A sassy eyebrow arched. “Says the one who specifically wore non regulation shoes in the hope of getting detention with a certain Mr Altin, if I’m not mistaken?”

Said leopard print trainers snatched off the desktop, angry bluey-green eyes lunging forward and flashing dangerously.

“Watch it, old man-”

“Meet Yuri Plisetsky,” Victor interrupted with a mockingly chirpy tone, fingers gracefully unfurling in the blonde’s direction as his gaze shifted back to Yuuri. “My cousin, protege, and constant struggle. This is Georgi Popovich-” the point of Victor’s fingers shifted slightly, to a taller boy with dark hair and thick purple rings around his eyes. “Not a fan of the no-makeup rule here. And Mila Babicheva-” Victor moved onto a slight girl in the seat beside Georgi with a heart shaped face and short auburn curls. “Scandalously violating the skirt-to-the-knee rule.”

A smirk flickered over Mila’s pink glossed lips, her tightly crossed legs only making her mini skirt look even shorter stretched across her thigh. Yuuri tried not to look. He didn’t even like girls, for heaven’s sake, he thought with reddening cheeks. He was much more interested in-

“ _ -Victor _ .”

Yuuri pressed his eyes shut, trying to calm the mad thump of his heartbeat. How was he going to survive the next hour?

“You’ve got to do something,  _ cheri _ ,” a new voice said from behind him, rich with another alien accent. It was softer than Victor’s, something else European. Yuuri wanted to say French. “This uniform policy is ridiculous. Can’t you do talk to your uncle?”

Victor just chuckled. Yuuri felt the warmth leave the space in front of him as Victor leaned back in his chair, felt the short rush of air as Victor crossed his legs.

“There’s only so much I can do when you practically flash the English teacher, Chris,” he said. “It’s people like you who are the reason we’re all getting clip on ties next year instead of the real deal.”

“I was simply demonstrating to my friend, Phichit here, how to properly undo a Windsor knot. I was completely innocent.”

“Didn’t you peanut him first?”

“Details, details…”

It was only when the attention was firmly off of him that Yuuri dared open his eyes again, peeling them open slowly like somebody might notice him again if he moved too quickly. He wanted to stay invisible. He wanted this hour to tick by as fast as possible and -  _ oh God _ , Victor was striping his gold tie off with one smooth glide, top button of his white shirt popping open and revealing a tantalising slither of his pale throat.

Yuuri’s mouth ran dry, his next breath rasping slightly. Victor was really not helping him keep his composure.

His smile was perfect. Yuuri couldn’t help but notice as Victor laughed at something else Chris said from across the detention room, his eyes sparkling and lips drawn back in a grin that was almost perfectly symmetrical, the hint of a heart shape. His lips were shiny, glittering in the light. It wasn’t fair, Yuuri wanted to whine. How was he supposed to learn anything knowing that a boy this beautiful would be somewhere under the same roof as him?

Before he learned anything though, he needed to survive this detention to get to his next period. What was his next period? Fingers numb, he slipped his clumsily folded timetable from his pocket, smoothing it out on the desktop.

“Ah...”

Yuuri leapt a mile at the cool whistle of air by his ear and the rough tickle of blunt stubble against his jaw. Brown and blonde hair flashed out of the corner of his eye before he pressed them shut, one hand abandoning the paper to clutch at his chest where his heart was battering against his ribs.

That rich French accent drawled in his ear again. “Nice,” Chris said, “We’ve got the same gym class.”

A warm body was pressed up flush against his back from behind and Yuuri felt every muscle in his body lock into place as long fingers smoothed over his around the paper. Half a second later, it was whipped away entirely. Yuuri didn’t mind. They could have it. Especially as at the same time, the body leaned away its embrace, granting Yuuri back his personal space. He let go of a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding, slowly pushing the air out through his teeth and peeling his eyes open again.

“You’re taking Advanced Mathematics?!” the tan boy with Chris - Phichit, was it? - said. “Wow, you must be smart.”

Yuuri just blinked, cheeks reddening. He dipped his head down, scratching at a dent in the desk to distract himself. “I thought everybody here was smart...”

“Questionable.”

The boy from the front row twitched a smirk. His head tipped back as his eyes rolled past Yuuri to the back of the classroom, knocking back his charcoal black bangs from his face. His arm draped over the back of his chair, leaning back confidently.

Yuuri heard a scape behind him.

“Hey, I heard that, Leroy!”

_ Yuri Plisetsky _ .

Yuuri didn’t dare turn round. The sharp edge to the voice told him he didn’t want to if he knew what was good for him.

“What are you even doing here, J.J?” Victor asked into the stiff moment, leaning his forearms forward on his desktop. “Wouldn’t your dad freak if he found out you had been locked up in detention on the first day of the new term?”

“Ms. Baranovskaya caught my pendant.” J.J’s hand disappeared into the collar of his shirt, pulling out something that glittered in the light between his fingers. He stared down at it with surprisingly soft eyes, rolling it around carefully in his hand. “A gift from my beautiful, Isabella-”

“She goes to Harriet’s.” Victor whispered in Yuuri’s ear, leaning close.

_ Harriet’s School for Girls _ , Yuuri recognised. 

“Apparently this school doesn’t appreciate love.”

Plisetsky snorted a laugh. “It’s Stammi Vicino High. It literally means ‘stay close to me’. This whole stupid school is founded on love, dumbass.”

“What about you, Yuuri?” Christophe spoke up from across the room, sending Yuuri’s timetable back to him as a paper aeroplane soaring smoothly through the air - until it pitched and lodged itself in Plisetsky’s hair instead. The boy brushed it off with an irritated huff. “Anybody you’d like to  _ Stammi Vicino  _ with?”

Yuuri’s face flushed red, choking on air.

“Fuck you, asshole!” 

“Actually I wasn’t talking to you.” Christophe’s eyebrow arched past Yuuri, at a disgruntled Plisetsky. “I was talking to the other Yuuri.”

Everyone made the connection at the same time, all eyes turning to Yuuri in one smooth unison turn of the head. Even Mr Cialdini glanced up from his book, if he wasn’t mistaken. Yuuri shrank in his seat. Heat brushed over his cheeks in response, head bowing, and wishing beyond wishes that the floor could just swallow him whole and save him from his humiliation somehow. All he’d wanted was to sit through his detention in peace and figure out how he was going to break the news to his parents...

Beside him, Victor’s eyes shot wide, his mouth dropping into a perfect ‘o’ of surprise. He still looked unfairly beautiful.

Plisetsky beat him to the question glowing from Victor’s eyes. “H-how did you know his name?”

“Phichit told me.”

“And how the fuck did he know?”

_ Yeah, how did he know? _ Yuuri twisted in his seat to the far back corner just in time to see Phichit lean forward on his elbows from behind Chris, black bangs swinging forward to brush over his eyelashes. 

“We went to Junior high together,” he said with a smile.

Yuuri’s mind went blank.

“W-we did?”

He scanned his memories for what happened in Junior High, but… nothing really came to him. Yuuri had been quiet. Shy. Withdrawn. He hadn’t really had any friends at all back then, let alone any that had kept in touch with enough to remember his name years on. He didn’t remember a boy with dark hair, and tan skin, and sharp winged eyeliner making his grey eyes really  _ pop- _

_ Hold on. _

_ That  _ triggered something, something Yuuri recognised. A gasp ripped through him, memory jolting back. He remembered that eyeliner, from years ago.

He almost didn’t dare ask. 

But he did anyway.

“Are you… were you the one who did my make up for my ballet recital in final year? F-for Swan Lake?”

Yuuri remembered. He remembered crying backstage in the shadow of his first public performance, crippled with nerves, barely twelve years old. He remembered how scared he’d been. He remembered how everything had felt like the end of the world that day, everything working against him - except the kind boy with the hamster backpack and the khol pencil in his pocket, who’d pulled him out of the shadows, sat him down, and made him feel pretty. A sharp cat eye, a dusting of glitter, and an encouraging thumbs up from that boy had been all that had given Yuuri the courage to step out on the stage that day. 

All thanks to that boy with dark hair and grey eyes, with tan skin and a soft smile - just like the boy across the room from him now.

_ Phichit…  _ Yuuri hadn’t even asked his name back then. His chair squeaked as he stood up. 

“T-thank you!” 

It came out more forceful than he’d intended - Phichit’s eyes blinking wide in surprise - but Yuuri didn’t regret saying it. He just blushed. A lot. His hand clenched into a fist behind his back, trying to focus on the pinprick of his thumbnail digging into his skin rather than the little voice whispering in the back of his mind telling him to shut up. 

“I mean,” he went on, quieter. “I never thanked you before. It really meant a lot to me that day so, um … thank you.”

His heart was pounding. He could feel himself twitching at the waist, itching to bow like he would do back home in Japan, but his American socialisation just about held him back, that tiny voice in the back of his head starting to get louder. It was harder to ignore. It sent waves of heat splashing over his cheeks, shame burning hot down the back of his neck, teeth digging into his bottom lip to stop himself saying anything else stupid in front of all the cool kids in detention with him-

Then - out of the corner of his eye - he noticed Victor. Staring. His eyes were big and round, practically glowing. 

“You … you dance?”

The blood pounding in Yuuri’s ears was deafening and he felt his mouth run ridiculously dry, breath hitching quietly in his chest at that sparkle in Victor’s gaze. It was too deep, too bright, too … perfect.

Yuuri nodded, swallowing hard.

A smile slowly curved the Russian’s lips, cheeks dusting pink. “I’d like to see that sometime.”

_ It wasn’t detention after all, _ Yuuri finally decided to himself, space between his ribs significantly tighter than he remembered. It was Hell. Pure, fiery, Hell. It had to be - because there was no way that  _ Victor Nikiforov _ of all people would even talk to him in the real world, let alone want to see him dance.

But the heat on his face felt real. The weight of the eyes of the room on the back of his shoulders felt real. The pull of his tie around his gulping throat felt real.

“We can talk about it tomorrow,” he found himself saying.

Victor’s smile faltered. “Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.” Yuuri sounded more confident than he felt. Inside, he was screaming. He wasn’t sure where all his words were coming from. “My glasses aren’t going to get fixed overnight and unless you were planning to dye your hair after school - which I didn’t get the impression you were - you’ll be non regulation tomorrow too. We’ll both get detention. We’ll both be here tomorrow… right?”

His voice squeaked right at the last minute - on the last note - Yuuri fought the urge not to just crumble on the spot, to just bury his face in his hands and die. He couldn’t believe those words were coming out of his mouth. Why couldn’t he stop them?

Victor was just staring. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “I… I guess.”

The world stopped turning. 

Yuuri sat back in his chair as gracefully as he could with his knees all but giving out from underneath him, feeling his body move like it didn’t belong to him anymore. It sat back in the seat bolder than Yuuri had done. It clutched the edge of the desk with a grip stronger than Yuuri could muster. And it cast Victor Nikiforov a steady look out of the corner of his eye, drinking in the Russian’s shocked expression and feeling every ounce of it bounce straight to the  _ other Yuuri’s  _ ego. He didn’t know what was happening. All he could do was listen to the mad thump of his heartbeat inside his chest, watch, and wonder what on Earth he would do next.

And what he did next - the thought of Victor Nikiforov’s eyes watching him as he danced still fresh in his mind - was hold Victor’s eye and drag his tongue over his lips.

Victor’s eyes flashed wide, his pale cheeks bleeding pink.

Yuuri was pretty sure he heard him gasp.

His pretty pink lips glittered in the light of the classroom and Yuuri kicked down and smothered the itch to just lean forward and taste the lip gloss shimmering over his mouth. That was too far. Offering to dance was one thing - sticking his tongue down Victor’s throat was something else entirely.

“Well…” Victor’s eyes flittered from Yuuri’s eyes - unmistakably - down to his mouth. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Something white flashed.

It bolted right between him and Victor, severing their eye contact and making both of them jump at the same time at the quiet whoosh through the air and rustle of paper. The paper aeroplane hit Yuuri square in the chin, bouncing down into his lap.

He glanced down at it with stunned eyes, the left hand wing staring up at him. Jagged, uneven writing etched over it in blue ink.  _ Non regulation blue ink,  _ Yuuri thought on instinct.

It said ‘ _ Welcome to the cool kids’. _

Yuuri glanced up, gasp fresh on his lips. 

Victor just grinned.

**Author's Note:**

> Keep tabs on my tumblr [here](https://justrae2010.tumblr.com/) and check out my other YOI fics [here](http://archiveofourown.org/users/justrae2010/pseuds/justrae2010)
> 
> Please drop a comment before you go !
> 
> Hope you liked it!


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